


Mye'r Leeng

by OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Art Enthusiast Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Ballet Dancer Eli, M/M, Murder Mystery AU, Sneaky Eli, accidental catching of feelings, artist!Eli, because apparently i'm all about this concept, eli is oblivious, mayerling ballet, space mayerling, thrawn pines like a mf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes/pseuds/OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes
Summary: Eli Vanto, principal male lead for the Imperial Coruscanti Ballet's production of "Mye’r Leeng," has been trying to put on the show without his roommate finding out about his involvement in an art form. His art-savvy roommate just bought a ticket to see the ballet, none the wiser to Eli's lead role.However, when a body is discovered a week before opening night, things get a bit complicated.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	1. Murder at Mye'r Leeng

He didn’t question where Vanto ran off to every afternoon. He always came back, and he seemed less anxious when he returned. So, Thrawn didn’t mention it. 

That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t  _ curious, _ of course he was, but he was self-aware enough to acknowledge that he was already instructed to stay by the man’s side for the majority of the time, so giving Vanto the time he needed was mutually beneficial. During his absence, Thrawn was able to focus more on his independent studies of Core World artworks and customs. There was much he had yet to learn, and the less-than-seamless transition to Academy life was rife with opportunity to trip over the ever-looming culture barrier. Coruscant had a significantly lesser amount of fine hierarchies between groups, but the social construction and customs were no less complex, while being quite different from what Thrawn had known. Vanto was invaluable in his insights to societal norms, despite the man thinking very little of himself when it came to such things. 

Thrawn was not exaggerating, nor was he speaking poetically, when he told Vanto that the man was crucial to his survival those months ago. He still tried to learn everything about the human, without overstepping boundaries that Vanto had set to prevent him engaging in an activity the human referred to as ‘snooping’. 

So, he once again fought the urge to ‘snoop’ by returning to his sketches. The TIE fighters favoured by the Imperial Navy were effective, but they were  _ so  _ limited. Thrawn rested the back of the pen against his chin, now if they had a  _ hyperdrive…  _

He was interrupted from his musing as the door to his room opened, admitting his roommate, who had been gone for the past four hours. He was glowing slightly in the infrared, Thrawn noted. Then again, the turbolift had been under repairs earlier, so he may have had to take the one down the hall, which would require some brisk walking to get to the room in less than three minutes. 

“Good evening, Vanto,” Thrawn greeted, returning his gaze to his schematics.

“Evenin’ Thrawn,” he sighed, dropping himself into his chair. He flipped over his datapad, swiping across the screen until he found what he had been searching for. Shrugging to himself, Vanto rose, stretching, and turned to climb into his bunk.

“Are you finished with your work for the day?” Thrawn spoke suddenly, catching the man off guard. 

“Oh! Uh, yes. Why’d you ask?”

“I was about to head to the mess hall, would you care to join me?”

The man shrugged before picking up his jacket, looking expectantly at Thrawn in lieu of an answer. Thrawn quickly set down his datapad when he caught on to what Vanto was conveying. Within half a minute, Thrawn was ready, and nodded at the shorter man. 

“Shall we?” Thrawn said, gesturing for Vanto to lead the way.

“We shall,” he laughed quietly, stepping through the door and moving aside to allow Thrawn to fall into step with him. 

“Is it customary to answer a question by altering the word order and tone?”

“Uh,” Vanto frowned, “sometimes, I guess. It’s nothin’ fancy, just a funny way of agreeing to things. Or it could be serious. Depends on context and company.”

“I see,” Thrawn mused, “does this work for all questions and responses?”

“Absolutely not.”

Thrawn started at the curt response, but did not press the human further. 

* * *

Eli groaned, slinging his pack over his shoulder. It wasn’t even dress rehearsal yet but he still found himself working harder than he had all season preparing for this performance. He glanced over at his costar. She also looked ragged, but she made it look alright enough. The circles under her eyes were a deep purple, offsetting the almost lavender hue of her skin. Her lekku twitched from being confined for so long. 

“You doin’ alright, Twilla?”

“As well as I can,” she scrunched her nose, pinching at a headache towards the middle of her forehead, “you? Your legs are shaking.”

Eli glanced down, laughing breathily as he took in the sight of his trembling knees. “Oh I’ll be fine. Got another nineteen hours until we’re back here, so I’m gonna make the best of it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” 

Eli shot her a grin. 

“Want to grab dinner? It’s late.”

“Yeah,” Eli sighed, “wish I could, but my roommate would be getting suspicious. I’m amazed he hasn’t commented on the five hour disappearances, plus travel.”

“You still haven’t told him?” Twilla reeled, eyes wide and mouth in a half-smile as it hung open. 

“Nope. He’d take it as an offence this late in the game.”

“Eli, you’ve been with the company for five years, dancing for twenty, how doesn’t he even suspect?”

“I’m clumsy. Very.”

Twilla hummed, unconvinced. “Clumsy, yes, but you make it graceful.”

“Not when I’m in uniform, unfortunately.”

“Ah yes, the Boot Excuse.”

“Hey! They’re a nightmare, I’ll have ya know!”

Twilla laughed, throwing her head back. She lifted her bag as she pulled on her jacket, sweeping her lekku over her shoulders once she was settled. 

They headed out of the theatre, weaving through the usual bustle of people as they made their way down the block to the rail station. Squeezing into the car, Eli let Twilla take the last seat, opting to cling to the post as the car sped down the line. Four minutes later, they arrived at Twilla’s stop, and she waved to Eli as she stepped off the train onto the platform. 

“Message me when you get home!” Eli called after her. 

“Always do!” Twilla tossed back over her shoulder, not even looking back as she waved. 

He kept his eye on her as the train pulled away. She lived on the surface, a few minutes away from the theatre, but he still worried after her. 

Fourteen minutes later, he was standing outside of his apartment. He stared accusingly at the lock, knowing he could open it, but too fatigued to just  _ reach out _ and insert the code cylinder. 

“Awe, boys, look! The Wild Space hick can’t figure out doors! They must only have flaps out there, poor things.”

Eli couldn’t bring himself to suppress the eyeroll. The cadets down the hall had a massive superiority complex, which he had grown used to over time, but it was no less aggravating. 

“Original, Cadet. Very creative.” Eli bit, straining to keep back his drawl. 

“See you around, pretty boy,” another jeered, the group of them laughing loudly as they moved to the turbolift. 

When he finally managed to let himself in, he exhaled shakily, rubbing at his eyes as he walked through the door. The lights were off, so he figured Thrawn hadn’t come back for the night yet. Which was odd, since he rarely left without Eli. 

He set his bag down inside his room, thanking the universe yet again that he and Thrawn had gotten upgraded to a nicer room where they could sleep  _ separately _ for a change. Not that he had anything against the guy, he just had a habit of getting underfoot, like a house-trained Loth-cat. And it gave him more room to store his dance gear when he wasn’t wearing it under civilian clothes. It was going to be a bit tricky navigating the next week, where he would be doing dress rehearsals for six hours a day. Luckily enough, the cadets had a break from their rigorous classes for the next two standard weeks, which gave him plenty of opportunities to figure out how to get to performances and back again before he was missed. That would be a four hour trip, once a day during the week, and twice a day on the two off-days. For two weeks. 

Easy, right?

“Vanto--”

“Fucking  _ hell,  _ Thrawn! Warnings! What did we talk about!” Eli wheezed, clutching his chest as he crouched over, trying to mentally recover from the large man suddenly appearing behind him. 

“I apologise, I was under the impression you knew I was here.”

“Then  _ why were the lights off!” _ Eli spluttered, eyes wide. 

“I do not require as much lighting as humans do to perform tasks,” Thrawn said carefully, cocking his head to the side. 

“Right,” Eli sighed, unsuccessfully trying to smooth his hair back from his forehead, “also, space.”

Thrawn’s eyes were glued to his feet as he moved them just beyond the doorway into Eli’s room, appearing every inch a scolded child. 

“Stop it, idiot, you’re makin’ me feel bad,” Eli huffed, leaning a shoulder against the wall. Thrawn shot him a quizzical look.

“‘Idiot’?” Eli winced.

“You’re not. It’s uh, an unkind word. Most of the time, but I was using it in a friendly manner. Generally means someone who’s a bit of a fool, in this case, you lookin’ all sad and such.”

“I did not intend to come off as… ‘idiot,’ I was merely correcting my boundaries. It was rude of me. Excuse me.”

Eli frowned as Thrawn turned and walked almost silently down the hallway, disappearing into the relative darkness of the apartment. Finally, he shrugged, and went about pulling his shirt on the rest of the way. 

* * *

Thrawn had stumbled upon an art subscription service when looking into the Coruscanti elites and their maintenance of the numerous art exhibits around the districts. This specific subscription gave him prior notice to the live art performances and discounted tickets. 

He slipped behind his desk, and keyed open his datapad. Swiping across the displays, he skimmed what this month had to offer. 

Thrawn hummed, pondering his small array of offers. The first one was an advert for the Mon Cala Opera, which he had seen the prior week. He had enjoyed it immensely, learning much about the Mon Cala people because of it. Their costumes, their dances, telling him much of what the limited array of books in the Imperial Archives could not have. The next was a new gallery from a prominent Kel Dor painter, one who used materials not available off of his homeworld, the whole exhibit being held in a gas chamber so the visitors must wear suits to see it. An intriguing option, however it was beyond expensive, even with his discounted ticket. The next was yet another invitation to the Nabooian gardens down by the Theatre district… which was pleasant when he went, but it was too much of a tourist trap, too many people, a bit loud for his tastes. This last one, however…

This was a new flyer, it had been released a few hours ago, in fact. It was for the Imperial Coruscanti Ballet’s production of  _ Mye’r Leeng, _ which would be making its seasonal debut in just over a week down at the Royal Theatre. 

Thrawn shifted in his seat, eyes squinting as he peered at the flyer’s art. It was a gripping photograph, the leads a male human and a female Twi’lek. He had heard of the ballet before, albeit briefly, but hadn’t the chance to look further into it. The seats offered were amenable, and for an understandable price. But, there was a  _ box _ seat also for sale… 

“Whatcha up to?”

Thrawn jolted, shoulders gravitating to his ears as he faced Vanto, eyes wide. 

“I am…” he glanced back to his display, “researching.”

“I am shocked.” Vanto huffed, closing the door behind him.

“You are?” 

“No, ‘course not. You’re almost always workin’ on something.”

“Ah, forgive my lapse in understanding--”

“It’s sarcasm, Thrawn. Pretty common ‘round here, you’ll need to get the hang of it some day.”

Vanto swung a leg over the chair opposite Thrawn, flipping open his communicator and briefly scrolling through the one-line text. Thrawn made to speak up, but decided against it, turning his attention back to the poster.

Just as he was tracing the outline of the dancers with his eye, something tugged at his mind. He glanced back at Vanto, noting the way he was draped over the desk chair. He returned his gaze to the male dancer. Back to Vanto. 

“Vanto?”

“Hm?”

“This man looks remarkably like you,” Thrawn mused, eyes trained on the display. He did not notice the way the human’s body stiffened, nor did he note the look of alarm that flashed across the man’s face. 

“… Pardon?”

“This man, here,” Thrawn pointed, loosely waving his finger across the poster. Vanto crossed around behind him, resting his hands on the back of Thrawn’s chair. 

“Don’t be silly, I don’t have a moustache.” 

“Is that what this is? I am unfamiliar with the term, but I have seen humans with them.”

“Yeah, do Chiss not have facial hair?”

“Not usually.”

“Huh, okay. Still isn’t me though.”

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Thrawn’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to make clearer the grainy quality of the poster.

“Is it just because he’s human? We don’t  _ all _ look the same, though some of us tend to follow templates…”

“Templates?”

“Nevermind. The other point stands.” Thrawn hummed in acknowledgement, not looking back to Vanto. 

They fetched their evening meal together, as usual, and then retired to their rooms for the night after discussing some of the questions Thrawn had from throughout his day. Simple things, really, ‘what was ‘squid’ in a descriptor for a Mon Cala?’ was met with ‘they were using it as a slur, Thrawn.’ ‘What do you mean by ‘slur’?’ being answered with ‘hurtful words, Thrawn.’ Keeping up with the ever-changing intricacies of Basic was tiring, but he was grateful for Vanto’s support and understanding.

As he lay in bed, one thing kept prodding at his mind. The dancers on the poster for  _ Mye’r Leeng, _ even just in that freeze, were so different from any of the other ballet posters he had seen. To settle his mind, he purchased the box seat for the opening night. 

For research, of course. 

* * *

_ “Eli! _ Thank Force you’re here!”

“Twilla? What is it?” Eli grabbed her shoulders, the purple Twi’lek having thrown herself into his arms, looking distraught.

“It’s Uron! They found him this morning--”

“What do you mean, ‘found him’? What happened?”

The sound of sirens hit his ears over the rush of dancers outside the theatre, most of whom were gathered near the side door, peering in. 

“Eli, Eli he’s dead--”

“What? How?” Eli said, reeling back from the crowd as they moved to either side of the door, making way for an Officer to push through into the theatre. 

“One of the light fixtures came undone, and it--it hit--” Twilla looked like she was about to be sick, swaying in Eli’s arms. He held her closer, her nose pressed into his arm as he tried to see through the crowd from where they stood. Two Troopers followed the Officer as they walked into the building, blasters set on stun. 

“Why the blasters?” someone near him whispered, being answered with an aggressive  _ hush! _

“Kerto,” Eli grabbed the man as he came nearer, “any ideas what happened?”

“I’m as lost as you are, mate,” the Weequay responded, reaching for Eli’s shoulder in return. The murmur continued to rise until it was near-impossible to discern one voice from another. The bits and pieces of conversation Eli managed to pick up were all conspiratorial, everyone trying to make sense of the little they had to go on. By now, some civilians had stopped to try to see what had caused the crowd, and the traffic lanes nearest to the theatre were being rerouted to avoid congestion. 

What could have been minutes or an hour later, the Troopers exited the building, flanking the doorway. The accompanying silence that fell over the crowd was almost deafening in comparison to the bustle of sounds before. A gurney was lead out of the theatre, service droids in tow. A sheet covered the body, or, what of it that it could. Occasionally a droid would have to stop to pick something up that had fallen off of the table. Twilla buried her head further into Eli’s shoulder, Kerto holding onto both of the other dancers as the gurney passed by them. 

“We’re going to need everybody here to remain put for questioning,” the Officer’s voice rose to carry over the crowd of people, “this shouldn’t take longer than two hours.”

Some lost their fight to stifle groans, others were more mature about it. A few of the civilians turned to leave only to be encouraged to return by the sight of more Troopers arriving. 

“Tell me about your whereabouts this morning, kid,” the Officer leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees.

“I was in my apartment,” Eli said carefully. At the prompting of a raised eyebrow, he elaborated, “had the day off of instructions so I was taking the time to finish my work before heading down to the theatre.”

“I understand that you are an Imperial Cadet as well, is this correct?”

“Ye-Yes sir.”

“Can anyone confirm you were in your apartment?”

“My roommate, sir. And my datastick.”

“I see,” the Officer leaned back, glancing at his partner, who had been quietly taking notes on her datapad while Eli was talking. She nodded to him before he returned to Eli.

“What happened? Do you think… that Uron’s death wasn’t accidental?” Eli ventured, knee bouncing erratically.

“We do suspect foul play, yes.” the Officer kept his eyes on Eli’s face, flicking back to his knee every now and again. Eli took in a sharp breath, blinking owlishly. He went still.

“Oh,” he said quietly, not sure where to go from there. 

“It would be wise for you to remain with another while the investigation is underway. Your roommate seems to fulfil that role, others we are encouraging to double up. You’ll need to be with someone at all times, for your safety.”

“Wait, wait, hold on now,” Eli stammered, head spinning, “why? Shouldn’t we be--”

“This is not usual protocol, Cadet, but we have orders from higher up that you need to remain safe, something to do with your roommate that requires extra security. So don’t argue, Mr Vanto. Understood?”

Eli nodded, wondering what in Sith’s hells Thrawn had gotten him into this time.

Twilla had been partnered up with another woman for the next few days until things ‘cooled down,’ and luckily enough for her, both of them were in the company, so they didn’t need to have the conversation Eli was trying to determine how to avoid. 

He didn’t  _ want _ to have to lie to Thrawn. He didn’t. But he also didn’t want to tell Thrawn he  _ was _ in fact the man on the poster. And admitting that he was a dancer in that very company putting on  _ Mye’r Leeng _ in barely a week would be admitting to his being in the poster by proxy. 

He was still trying to wrap his head around Uron being dead. He hadn’t known the man very well, but he had been in the company for almost as long as Eli had, and he and Eli danced together in a scene, albeit briefly. 

By the time he got back to his apartment, Eli was on the verge of tears. Stress, shock, grief… could have been any of those things. He wasn’t thinking clearly when he threw his arms around Thrawn as the door opened, and Thrawn wasn’t thinking at all when he suddenly had his arms full of an upset human. Eli had almost slammed his head into Thrawn’s clavicle, the taller man unable to see the tears that threatened to fall from the human’s eyes. He carefully wrapped his arms around him.

“Vanto?”

“Don’t ask, please,” he breathed, tightening his grip before letting go. Thrawn stared after him as he walked briskly into his room, shutting the door behind him. 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a half-chapter for now  
> sending love to Drac for being there

Mitth’raw’nuruodo found his brain short circuiting when Vanto arrived, barely having time to take in the heightened glow of the shorter man before he collided with Thrawn’s ribcage. Was this normal human behaviour when upset? Or was this unique to Vanto? 

Vanto’s arms dug into his sides, and Thrawn found himself reciprocating, albeit in a gentler manner. 

“Vanto?” 

No response, save for a forehead leaning into his clavicle. Thrawn found himself memorising all of the points of contact where Vanto clung to him. The way the slender arms wrapped around his torso, hands digging into the back of his tunic. The bridge of a nose near the centre of his collarbone, feeling the man’s jaw clenching against his shoulder. He debated pulling him closer, wondering what it would feel like to completely encircle the human within his grasp, would his stomach be warm against his? Or did he run colder?

Just as he was about to rest his chin on Vanto’s head, the man squeezed tighter. Thrawn felt his pulse alter briefly before correcting itself. 

“Don’t ask, please,” Vanto rasped, before abruptly letting go. Slightly in shock, Thrawn let his arms fall as the man rushed to his private room. 

He stood there for a moment, skin tingling where Vanto had been clinging to him, mind blank. 

He hypothesised that the reason his body was reacting so oddly to the embrace was due to this being the first time in years he had been embraced by someone. Particularly someone to whom he had no familial relation. Aside from the occasional brush of fingers or Vanto’s hand on his shoulder, on the back of his chair by his arms… this was the most contact he had ever had with the man. Perhaps, if he found a way to remedy the man’s distress, he may have an opportunity to inquire about heightening the frequency of such occurrences. 

A quick search on the holonet for “how to relieve distress in humans” yielded unsatisfactory results. Most of them were absurdly intimate, and he was certain Vanto would not be comfortable with them. There were several words he did not recognise, but further searches brought an end to that train of thought for the present time. Another search, this one for “comfort humans” gave him a list of websites offering temporary companions or escorts. The final “how to comfort humans” brought him to  _ actual _ sites he could use in this circumstance. 

Glancing around the small shared room, there was nothing he could tidy that hadn’t been done so already, and he wasn’t to step into Vanto’s room, occupied or not. Which was a shame, really, as he had no such rule for his own room, and had made several cues that Vanto was welcome whenever he pleased. Moving on to the next suggestion, he crossed to the small shelf they reserved for food and other consumables. Caf was too strong of a beverage for this late in the human day cycle, so he let his eyes wander over the selection of teas they had. Which included a vast assortment of precisely two boxes of standard black tea, one of which had added herbs. That wouldn’t do. 

Thrawn left their residence in pursuit of something suitable.

* * *

Eli had sunk to the floor of his room as soon as the door shut. He even sat there for perhaps an hour before dragging himself to his feet. He was full of anxieties he hadn’t known he had before today: worries about how the show would go on, if it would at all. Logically, he knew it would continue, they had put such hard work into it, but in the light of Uron’s death… it didn’t feel right. It felt cheap and rude. But that’s why they had understudies. Before they were all let out, their director said they’d be back tomorrow, so he presumed the show would continue. It wasn’t simply someone being sick or injured, Uron was  _ dead _ , and he had died  _ in _ the theatre they were to be performing in. That had warning signs all around it. 

Eli managed to pull himself into bed, shucking off his civilian clothing and dance attire, and pulling on a sweater he had purchased three years before. It was a soft pink colour and it reminded him of his childhood on Lysatra. The better parts, at least. 

The sheets were uncomfortably cold for his bare legs, and he moved them around to create some warmth under the covers. He ended up pulling the comforter out of alignment with the rest of his bedding to swaddle himself in it, needing the pressure. All of him was covered except for his nose and eyes, which were exposed to the cool air, facing the half-shut blinds looking at the backside of some office building across the way. Eli let the small hum of traffic and the amber sky lull him into an uneasy sleep.

Thrawn, satisfied with his creation, tapped on Vanto’s door, waiting patiently. After fifteen seconds with no response, he tapped again. Nothing. He tapped again, a bit louder. From the other side of the wall was a small  _ hmmf _ -sound, indicating Vanto was inside. He tapped again.

A muffled  _ “come in” _ from the human sounded, and Thrawn eagerly took the invitation, pressing the trigger for the door. 

The walls in Vanto’s room were bare in comparison to his own, but the light filtering in through the slotted blinds sent golden bars across the opposite wall, slightly interrupted by a lumpy shadow. Thrawn made note of the striking combination of the sunset colour from the city outside and the cool grey interior of their residence, wanting to appreciate it more later. He padded lightly across the floor to stand by the side of the bed, unable to see the human from underneath the mound of bedding crumpled around what Thrawn guessed was his torso. 

“Vanto, I,” he cleared his throat, starting over. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t think so,” he said after a beat. “You?”

Thrawn blinked. “I am concerned, but this is about you,” he sat next to the bed, back to the wall, mug in hand. “You do not seem well, but I read this would help.”

Thrawn stretched his arm to allow for easier access to the mug. After some shuffling, and the bed rocking around, Vanto was now facing Thrawn, having chosen to turn onto his opposite side by rolling on his stomach. He extended a hand to feel around for the mug, giving up on his blind search after a moment, peeking his head out from within the mass of blankets. He frowned lightly, scooting up to a semi-seated position, gingerly taking the mug from Thrawn. The Chiss kept his eyes trained on Vanto as he gave the mug an experimental sniff, only averting his gaze when he received a cocked eyebrow. 

“Is this… did you make me hot chocolate?”

“I read it would help,” Thrawn repeated.

“It’s,” Thrawn fought not to look at Vanto during the unsettling silence. “It’s actually really good.” Thrawn smiled in spite of his efforts to suppress it.

“That’s comforting to hear,” he said eventually, risking a glance back up to the other man. Vanto smiled softly, face paler now that Thrawn could see it. Something on the corner of his mouth caught Thrawn’s attention.

“You have-,” Thrawn reached out before aborting the motion, “something, here,” he motioned to his own face. Vanto blinked before wiping the small spot of chocolate off of his face, facial glow slightly intensified across his ears and cheeks. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, a small smile on his lips. Thrawn nodded, reminding himself not to stare. They sat in companionable silence for a short while.

“I know you told me not to ask,” Thrawn said softly, “and I won’t if you do not wish me to. But it is clear that you are having difficulties at this time, and I would like you to know that I am available should you need to talk, or not talk.” he sat back, resting his elbows on his knees, his head against the wall. 

“‘Not talk’?” Vanto repeated, moving slightly so that he could better see Thrawn from his position. “Did you mean ‘or not,’ or did you mean somethin’ else?”

Thrawn shifted.

“Your actions earlier suggested that you found it beneficial to engage in embraces when you are in need of support.” Thrawn said carefully, eyes tracing the small moon on his fingernail. 

“Ah,” Vanto said, “yeah, I guess it did help. Dunno if it’ll always help, but thanks for the hug,”  _ delightful word, _ Thrawn mused, “sorry I didn’t ask before.”

“Perfectly alright, you don’t need permission if you find yourself needing another… hug.”

Vanto laughed lightly, “Alrigh’ then.”

* * *

Two days later, Twilla had just gotten back to her apartment when she called Eli.

“Twilla? Everything okay?”

_ “Yeah,”  _ she sniffed,  _ “yeah, uh, about that-” _ she hiccoughed. 

“Twilla, are you crying?”

_ “Lira’s gone. _ ” she rushed, sniffling. 

The first coherent thought in Eli’s head was  _ oh shit. _ Immediately after that was that not only was another person from their company, now down to forty three including crew, dead, but Twilla’s understudy, at that.

“Fuck,” Eli breathed, covering his mouth. 

_ “Yeah, uh, so --  _ sniff _ \-- Rila’s taking over Lira’s role, but Eli,  _ Force _ , what is happening?” _

“I wish I knew… have the Officers been notified?”

_ “Sym -- my roommate -- heard from Lo, who saw it, and then he told the Officers-” _

“How? Lira, I mean,” Eli sat down on his bed, finding the notion of standing up unwelcome.

_ “Another ‘unlikely accident’ as the Officers would put it… it was outside of the theatre, though. She landed on the sidewalk near Lo from at least two stories up.” _

“Wow,” Eli swallowed, “that’s--wow. I’m really, I’m so sorry, Twilla.”

_ “Me too, Eli,” _ she broke off,  _ “Me too. I’ll see you in a few hours, please stay safe and tell me when  _ you _ get home, too.” _

“You too, Twilla, take care.”

The call ended, and the silence around Eli was filled instead with a high pitched tone that seemed to be ringing from nowhere. 

Dress rehearsals were well underway with two rehearsals left until opening night. The cast was getting a bit antsy--nothing else had happened yet, but everyone was anxious. The crew had been working overtime to make sure everything was secured and safe for the ones on stage. Extra precautions had been made for non-human members, they made up over half of the cast but there had been a rise in pro-human extremist groups over the past few years. And both of his dead castmates hadn’t been human.

Luckily, the new understudy for Twilla was doing magnificently. They had great chemistry with Eli’s understudy, and danced well with Eli in their runthrough of the final number. Gyr was one of two Zabraks in the cast, with soft yellow skin and light brown patterning. The other, a male named Myr, their brother, had more intense colours, and while the same height, was more built where Gyr was toned. They had both been shy before the incidents, but now they were even more shut-off. Eli made sure to leave them flowers at their dressing tables when he could. It wasn’t much but he hoped it made them smile, at least for a moment. 

He walked with the group to the train after everyone was ready to go. They had taken to travelling in groups, those who took the same train lines leaving together. His group had ten people, with Gyr, Myr, Twilla and Kerto the only non-humans among them. The largest subgroup got off first, all but Eli, Twilla, Kerto and one other remaining.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey,   
> sorry i've been off of the face of the earth  
> life has been really fucking hard.  
> almost died the other week but unluckily enough for you lovelies i'm still here <3
> 
> on a serious note,   
> once i find out who Judge is, you're losing your kneecaps, and Etsy will have a new section for human paperweights.
> 
> for the rest of you,  
> i hope you're doing well, and that you're holding together well enough  
> i love you,  
> xo spiders
> 
> i'll do my best to hang on so i can keep this going, but, mental illnesses are a bitch.  
> please take care of yourselves  
> xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> hey lovelies! hope this was ok, it's been a Hot Minute.  
> Mye’r Leeng is based on the ballet "Mayerling," which I highly recommend, but be warned that it is dark.  
> finally got my writing enthusiasm back for at least a few hours :)  
> let me know what you think!  
> xo spiders


End file.
